


Storyteller

by wackyjacqs



Series: Bizarre Holidays [223]
Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 13:42:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: She pretends not to notice how she’s arranged the half dozen works in alphabetical order and she doesn’t think about the teasing voice that used to say,“Guess you gotta go reorganize your collection now”,anytime she came home with a new book.





	Storyteller

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ‘Book Lovers Day’ (9 August).

“The more that you read, the more things you will know,” she murmurs to herself as she studies the cover of the book in her hand. “The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go,” she adds with a sigh, reverently placing it on the shelf and taking a step back.

As she studies the dozen or so works stacked together she pretends not to notice how she’s arranged them in alphabetical order, nor does she think about the ghost of a whisper in her ear; the teasing voice that used to say, _“Guess you gotta go reorganize your collection now”_, anytime she came home with a new book.

She’s always been a reader. Her parents used to joke and say she could read before she could walk and there are times when she thinks they were right. There’s just something about reading that she loves. It’s the thrill of learning something new; the amusement over a ridiculous theory some so-called expert has published and claimed to be accurate; the tranquillity of falling into a completely different fictional world with its own unique characters…

A wave of nostalgia washes over her and she remembers one of the first books her parents ever read to her – one about a caterpillar with an insatiable appetite. Then, there are memories of another book about a naughty cat that wears a large hat and causes chaos and leaves mayhem in his wake. However, it’s the story of the pig and his friendship with a spider named Charlotte that’s her favorite from when she was a child.

As she grew older her tastes in reading changed but her love for books stayed the same. She remembers adventure novels, fantasy and other worldly texts, crappy romance novels and dystopian storytelling. There’s the intellectual magazines, scholarly journals, language books she’s also studied. She’s read a lot over the years and sometimes she found herself asking questions about the texts or the theories behind a book, but while her dad never dismissed or dissuaded her ideas he would always tell her not to believe everything she read. _“Sometimes the truth is weirder than fiction,”_ he’d add, right before he gave her an unintelligible smile.

_If only she knew then what she knows now._

She misses those moments.

She misses having access to the SGC and the advantage it gave her; the unique position to gather and build a collection of books like none other. With a lot of the materials technically classified, they had to stay on the base so it was completely different to her collection at home, but just as meaningful.

And for such a long time, it was fine.

_They had been safe._

She had a carving on a stone tablet that Daniel presented to her as a birthday present one year which told the story of the Abydonians and more than once she made him share its secrets. When Teal’c had permanently returned to Chulak, he had proudly donated his collection of thriller and detective novels to her and she’d cherished those, delving into the series at times when the things around her became too much. Her pile of National Geographics were always stacked at the far end of the shelf, unmistakable with their yellow cover, and always within easy reach for when something was needed to keep boredom at bay. Beside them, lay a science journal where, between the covers, it had been highlighted and sentences scored out where the science was wrong, the theories circled with red pen and question marks decorated the column space.

But it wasn’t always about the words. Her favorite book barely had any words; just images. Images telling the story of her parents; the love her mom and dad had for each other and how, despite the tragedies they faced in their lives and the sacrifices they had to make, they made it through it all and were together, _always._

She remembers the last time she held the photo album in her hands. She was hiding in the corner of one of the science labs and waiting for the end to come. The sound of explosions and firefights echoing through the corridors of the SGC; the world around her collapsing and burning. It was the day she left Earth behind and she wanted to bring the book with her but couldn’t. As she was hauled to her feet, the order was to leave it behind with her parents.

_It would be safe, they promised._

Now, the only piece she owns is the photograph in her hands. It looks more like a remnant of scrap paper, the edges torn and scorched from where she managed to save it from the flames, when it fell free from the album.

It's the only happy image that remains from her previous life; the people she knew; the ones she loved.

The Alpha Site is home now but it feels distant, alone. _Wrong._

She closes her eyes briefly against the tears that threaten to fall. She needs a book; something she can read and lose herself in so powerfully that she forgets about everything else. She casts a glance over the sparsely-filled shelf but can’t bring herself to lift any of them down. It’s still too raw, too fresh, the memories too vivid.

That’s the thing with books though; even though it hurts, they help keep those memories and legacies alive. How they can tell the story of those who can no longer share their own.

She looks around her quarters and finds paper and a pen in one of the desk drawers, so she takes a seat. Setting the photograph down, her fingers gently trace the outline of the two figures in the image before she picks up the pen with a shaky hand and starts to write.

_My name is Grace O’Neill, daughter of General Jack O’Neill and Colonel Samantha Carter…_

If she can’t find a book to read, she’ll write her own.

**Author's Note:**

> This… well, I don’t quite know what this is, to be honest. AU? Apocafic? Complete garbage?
> 
> You can let me know in the comments. 😂


End file.
